In Which Dallas Searches for Paradise
by King of Eli
Summary: "Find the paradise I could not, my son, and make your future brighter than mine." Dallas Genoard's only full loyalty belonged to his mother, and when he finally opens her will over a decade after her death, he finds instructions for him to find paradise, the concept his mother had searched for until her last day. [Dallas-centric, some focus on LuckDallas much later]


**Prologue**

_1917_

"Come here, little one."

The firm, commanding voice of his mother snapped young Dallas Genoard from his play. Getting up from where he'd been crouched in the grass, chasing lizards, he bounded over to his mother in a few short strides, standing just in arm's reach in front of her. Daniela reached out, pulling her son into her lap so that she could smooth back his hair. He wriggled in her arms, peering up at her with an indignant expression.

"Mama!"

"Hush, now. Your aunt has come all the way from Cuba, she deserves your attention for at least a few moments, _hijito*_." Dallas twisted in her arms again, but this time it was to look at the brown-haired woman who sat next to her with his younger sister, Eve, on her lap, braiding flowers into her long blonde hair. Stella's bright blue eyes shined with joy as she looked from Eve to Dallas, not betraying any of the exhaustion from her trip.

Dallas had heard his mother's story many times, of how she came from Cuba and met his father during the Spanish-American war. Her family had stubbornly refused to leave their home country, but Daniela Martinez, ever longing for adventure, had managed to escape their grip and followed the then-young Raymond Genoard all the way back to New Jersey. Stella had longed to follow her elder sister's footsteps, but had remained in Cuba to care for their parents. However, with his grandparents' recent deaths, Stella had made the bold and dangerous decision to finally come to live with her sister.

To be honest, he enjoyed his aunt. She was much different than his mother; quiet, reserved, and more of a follower than a leader, she spoiled him and the rest of his siblings rotten. Stella would never be able to have children of her own, and a part of Dallas knew, even at this tender age, that she wished Jefferey, Dallas, and Eve were her own.

"_Tia_," Dallas chirped to bring her attention back to him. Completing the final braid in Eve's hair, she looked, and a smile spread across her lips.

"Ah, little coyote, you have a legend in your eyes." Reaching over with one hand, Stella ruffled Dallas's hair, putting it out of place once more. He caught Daniela's huff of disapproval, but shook his head anyway once his aunt had pulled back.

"Indeed he does," a gruff voice spoke from behind them. Striding across the lawn to stand behind his mother's chair was Raymond, assessing the situation with his hawk-like eyes. "A legend which does _not _include _Spanish_." He spoke the word like it was poison, and his eyes met Daniela's in a heated stare. From behind him, Jefferey peeked around his father's torso, then said,

"I told you you shouldn't speak it anymore."

"_Cállate_." Was all that Dallas said in reply, turning his head away. Whatever, his brother was a no-good suck-up anyway. Dallas was certainly _not_ one of those, and he'd speak nothing but Spanish if it meant he could mess with his father or brother.

Spanish or not, there was indeed a legend that Dallas would come to fulfill.

_1925_

The house's windows laid shattered on the floor, jagged pieces of glass waiting to cut Dallas to pieces, it seemed like. Hesitantly, he took high steps across the floor, anxiously trailing behind his mother. He was fifteen now, older, more sure of himself, but when it came to possibly dangerous situations, he wanted to be as close to Daniela as he could. She'd proven herself, time and time again, as much more efficient than even his father.

"Stay back," she warned as she approached the bedroom door. It was the bedroom that she and Raymond shared—well, used to. It'd been turned into a guest room long ago, but it appeared as though the people who'd shot up the place didn't realize that. A few spent bullets rolled away from her feet as she nudged the door open, going inside. Dallas longed to follow, but he obeyed his mother, and hung back, until an ear-splitting scream came from the bedroom.

"_Mama!_" Dallas called in alarm, leaping over the glass and into the room. "_Mama, _are you—"

Then he stopped cold.

Lying on the floor, in a pool of growing blood, was Stella. Behind her crouched Eve, terrified, pressed up against the wall, eyes wide as a deer caught in a trap. Beside her, Daniela had flung an arm around her sister, face twisted into unimaginable pain.

"_Stella! Hermana—_listen to me!" Her cries were in vain, and she nudged her sister's body, getting no response. She was dead.

Her sister, his beloved aunt, was dead.

_Later..._

"How _could_ you betray me like this?"

"There was no betrayal involved, Daniela. The only ones who betrayed anyone were the Runoratas."

"_You_ betrayed _me_ by dealing with them! Because of you my sister is _dead!_"

Dallas pulled the covers tight over his head, pressing his face into the pillow and wishing that he could fade away. Months had passed. Daniela and Raymond kept arguing, every night, working their way well into the morning. Dallas found himself listening, hanging off of each and every heated word, and finding himself growing more and more angry with his father every time he listened to him speak.

So it was the Runoratas who'd done this, huh? Dallas's lips turned into a bitter frown as he flipped onto his side, hearing the conversation muffled through one ear. Would it make his mother happy, he wondered, if they were dead, too?

Would it make his mother happy if _he_ killed them?

_1926_

Dallas had overestimated himself. A lone attack on four Runorata men had been a mistake.

"What were you thinking," snapped Daniela as she fended off one of the men, keeping her son placed firmly behind her. Protective instinct was not something she lacked.

"I wanted to help you," Dallas snapped heatedly back, feeling more and more useless as he watched his mother fend off the men single-handed. "I'm not a kid! I can take care of myself!" His blood pumped hot, seeing progressively more and more red as his thoughts swam inside of him, covering him in a blanket of rage that would become his safety net. What, did she think he was _stupid_? That he couldn't _handle_ himself? His lips curled back in a snarl, and as one of the assailants turned tail, Dallas tore off after him, hot-headed determination the only thing egging him on.

"Get back!" Daniela called after him, and Dallas didn't notice the desperation in her voice until it was a moment too late. Chasing him across the road, the Runorata goon disappeared into the bushes on the other side as Dallas stopped in the middle. The roar of an engine caught his attention, and he looked over to his side, eyes widening as he realized what was happening.

A car was headed straight towards him, much too fast for it to be unintentional. Unwillingly, Dallas froze, terror reflecting in his cobalt blue eyes. A childish decision, it seemed, would end his life.

Then, there was a blur of movement in his periphery, and something slammed into Dallas's side, sending him sprawling on the other side of the road. Car tires screeched, and he registered a loud "thud" as he laid on the ground, dazed and confused, limbs temporarily paralyzed from the sudden push. Hearing the car roar away, he shakily got to his feet, looking from left to right and checking himself. He was missing no limbs, and nothing felt broken. Had he really been so lucky to make it out alive? What miracle had occurred to keep him in one piece?

And then his eyes settled on what lay in the middle of the road, and Dallas screamed.

Rushing to his mother's side, he dragged her over to where he'd been pushed, laying her down and crouching beside her. Daniela was breathing, but only just, ragged and clipped. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth, and the same blood was splashed on her chest. Dallas guessed that her ribcage had been crushed, and by the odd, twisted angle of her legs, so had her hips. Her eyes had been half closed, but she opened them as much as she could to look at Dallas, smiling gently.

"In the future," she rasped, looking like it took all of her energy just to speak, "you mustn't make decisions like that, little coyote."

"Don't talk," he urged, leaning down so that his head was closer to hers. "_Mama_, please, I'll find help—"

"There is no help for me," Daniela sighed, letting her head droop and fall against the ground. Her breathing grew more labored. "I'm sorry that our journey must end so soon."

"It doesn't have to!" Dallas's voice was punctuated by a thin whine. "You can't—we still have to—to get revenge for Stella, right? That's what you want, that's what you told Pop you wanted—"

"Sometimes we can not have what we want, little coyote," she said. "And I'm afraid that is a lesson you must learn now." Dallas whimpered, pressing closer to her. "Please, Dallas, promise me few things. Promise that you will protect your sister. She must never know—what your father—" He pressed his cheek against hers to cut her off.

"I will—"

"And promise me—promise, you will do right what I have done wrong in this life. Promise you will be kind, and strong, and loyal. Promise me."

Dallas nodded. He would promise her anything. "I do, _Mama_, please don't go—"

"Find the paradise I could not, my son, and make your future brighter than mine." Daniela smiled, and her eyes—cobalt blue, just like his—looked towards the sky. "Stella waits for me there, and I shall wait for you there, too." Then, one final, heaving breath rattled her broken body, and she laid silent. Dallas laid there in shock for a few moments, not knowing what to do, or what to say.

Overwhelmed, Dallas pushed himself under his mother's arm and cried into her still warm body, trying to preserve the scent of the roses in her hair.

[_hijito=_ little son

_"Cállate."_shut up

_Tia_ = aunt]


End file.
